Tristan Staghorn: Life Untold
by ElspethElf
Summary: The story of Tristan Staghorn: Second part is up. Tristan meets Arram Draper for the first time at the university of Carthak. (three-part fic)
1. Part I

Tristan Staghorn was more than just the man who worked for the Emperor of Carthak, the man who sought for pleasures with Yolane, the man who became a tree under the Word of Power. He was much, much more than just a side figure.

A three-part story of Tristan Staghorn's life.

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**Tristan Staghorn**

**by ElspethElf**

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**Part 1: Childhood**

'I pick…. Tristan!'

A collective groan rendered through the group of children followed by loud bursts of protests. They stood in the clearing of a forest, huddled together in a vain attempt to pick the fairest team.

'That's not fair Kris, you _always_ get to have Tristan. Its our turn now!'

This was followed by a chorus of 'yeah! That's right!' and further stampings of feet to stress that it is, indeed, their turn to claim the much wanted boy.

The culprit of this argument was a game called Deadman's Trench. It required two teams of even numbers, all of which possessing the Gift. Both teams would stand in lines facing each other, and would take turns to try and knock out opponents by using their magic. By 'knock out' the general definition meant making a player fall, or step out of the line. The children were not cruel, or indeed, _skilful_ enough for serious injury, and the game was merely a diversion from the long summer afternoon.

A boy by the name of Ral stepped forwards determinedly.

'Look, Kris. It's only fair that we get Tristan in this round. You had him last time and he completely _killed_ us!'

Kris grinned down his freckled nose. 'Scared, Ral?'

'Not so much scared as doomed. You know whichever team he goes on will win. Might as well not play at all.'

Kris wrinkled his nose at the undeniable truth. He turned towards Tristan, who stood silently, regarding the whole situation with an amused smile.

'You decide. Whose team do you want to be in? Wait! _I know_…!' his brown eyes gleamed, 'How about you and me _against the rest_? Two against four – that's fair! What do you say, Trissy?'

'Trissy says, how about he go against _all_ of you.'

Kris blinked, looking, for a split second, hurt at the suggestion. He and Tristan were, after all, close friends and partners in many of their previous games, and he did not like to be discarded so easily.

What he liked even less was to face Tristan in a game.

The others, however, were all for the idea. Excited at this new suggestion, they clambered into their positions eagerly, all wanting a chance to best the boy.

Tristan regarded his 'opponents' silently, thinking of the quickest way to end the game. Like all boys his age, he liked nothing better than the impressive delight in doing something spectacular, and it just so happened that he was particularly good at achieving it too.

The girl on the very right, Nina, was a highly squeamish person, he remembered, and using the first trick he learnt, he lifted a layer of loose soil from the ground and sprayed it neatly, even artistically, across the girl's tunic.

Nina, reacting just as predicted, screamed and jumped away to avoid her clothes dirtying. In the process of hastily wiping her blouse, she knocked into the boy standing next to her, and both children fell out of the line. She glared when her brother, Ral, groaned aloud.

'Its _new_! Mother will skin me if I get this dirty!'

Ral rolled his eyes, muttering, 'Dratted _girls_ and their… _cleanness_!' He looked at Tristan, saw his silent, smirking face and growled.

Upon seeing the branch that extended above Tristan's head, he willed the bough to shake. As it did so, acorns, twigs and various insects dropped from the tree in one showering stream.

Tristan grimaced, but stood his ground. He felt something wriggle suspiciously in his hair and quickly brushed it off. The acorns that hit him were hard and painful, but he gritted his teeth and waited for Ral to tire out.

It didn't take long. Ral, exhausted, released his will from the tree and puffed heavily. 'I'll…' he said doggedly, 'I'll get you in the next round.'

Ten minutes later, he was out of the game.

Now only Tristan and Kris remained standing. The others, forlorn and beaten, watched on with a mixture of envy and anticipation.

Tristan grinned at his friend.

'Ready to loose?'

Kris grinned back, but it was rather a forced one. Just once, he thought, just once in his life he wished to beat Tristan. Just once.

He took note of the leaves beneath Tristan's foot, and thinking to take him unprepared, Kris made the leaves ignite. Tristan, however, already caught the direction of his friend's gaze and a stream of his gift doused the fire almost instantly.

'My turn!'

Without waiting for Kris to collect his disappointment, Tristan made a grand gesture with his hand, and a small spark of fire appeared in front of him. A few more hand movements, and the fire leaped across the air towards Kris.

The boy, having never seen such a trick, cried out in surprise and thinking that the spark would hit his face, jumped back from the line impulsively.

There was a loud commotion from the watchers as children crowded around Tristan.

'Graveyard Hag, Trissy!' Nina yelled, slapping his shoulders playfully, 'where did you learn to do _that_?'

Tristan's grin turned to that of mischief.

'I got it from Master Rook's book. I had to steal it from the library because he said I wasn't ready for advanced magic. He just wanted to make sure his teaching post is still safe.'

Kris walked stiffly towards him. 'I – didn't know you could make fire jumped through space like that.'

Tristan shrugged. 'I learnt it last night. It's not that difficult. I'll teach you if you like.'

Kris, still a little stiff-faced, managed a smile. He couldn't help but feel a little resentful towards the boy, who was – to Kris' shame – two years younger than his eight years.

Then Nina screamed. The rest of the children turned their gazes towards the source of terror, and froze.

A wolf, growling and looking none too friendly, stood some feet away from the group of children. Deep, menacing noises rumbled through its throat as it took a step nearer.

Beside Tristan, he felt Kris tense. Nina gave a soft whimper of fright and clung on to her brother's shaking arm.

'What do we do? What do we do?' Ral murmured urgently. Not taking his eyes away from the wolf, he held Nina's hand and gently pushed her behind him.

'Use our Gift,' Tristan supplied.

'What? We don't know anything about fighting a wolf!' Kris' voice grew shrill and was met by another growl.

'Keep your voice down, and don't move so – '

A snarl. A flash of brown fur. In the next second, the children screamed as the beast leaped towards them. In a burst of panic, they ran, scattering amongst the forest like startled rabbits.

There was a rip and a thud as Nina fell across the forest floor. Terrified eyes glued on the approaching wolf, Nina sent a nearby stone hurtling towards the animal. It struck the beast's head, hard enough to make it roar in fury, but not enough to knock it out.

With a sound that was akin to a mad, dog's bark, the wolf bared its sharp teeth and charged at the girl.

Ral screamed for his sister to get up but she seemed paralysed.

'Nina! Nina _move!_'

The beast was almost on her.

With fierce concentration, Tristan forced his entire energy on the wolf. Face and eyes scrunched up with the effort, the boy raised his hand and struck.

Bright fire shot from his outstretched arms and crashed into the beast's side. It was knocked onto the floor with a howl of pain. After a moment, it was back on its feet and looking through enraged eyes at Tristan. Snarling, it made for the boy.

Shaking, from fear and exhaustion, Tristan summoned up what was left of his Gift. With a yell, he punched with his arms – and the air before him rippled.

He saw the wolf blow backwards before hearing its screeching, dying cry.

There was a moment of pure silence, broken only by Tristan's fast, gasps of air. Then, Ral hurried to his sister.

A hand, shaking and cold, patted Tristan's shoulder. He turned to look into Kris' pale, shocked face. He smiled weakly.

'You'd… better not do that to _me_ in the next game.'

Tristan stared hard at the animal. All he could think was: the wolf is dead. The wolf is dead, and he caused its death. True, he had felt terrified when it was charging at him, and true, what he did was a complete instinct of survival, but wasn't he the only person out of six children who had strength – and daring – enough to strike?

Nina gazed at him with adoring eyes. Ral looked on with respect and admiration. Ever so steadily, the thrilling sense of pride and elation filled every part of his body. He regarded the dead beast with a fighter's triumph.

At the age of six, Tristan Staghorn had killed his first wolf.


	2. Part II

The second part is finally here, focusing on Tristan's first meeting with Arram Draper.

Edited for correction: thanks Kitty!

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**Part 2: University **

Even before the first day started, Tristan knew of his name. He heard it echo like some incessant whisper amongst the brightly robed scholars, heard the name pass from lip to lip in silent revere.

Tristan was indifferent at first. He had so much learning and magic to look forward to, so much potential waiting for him inside those majestic walls. He had left the safe closure of his village for this place of learning. He left his mother's twinkling eyes, his father's scholarly ways, and the maids' fusses just to be here, to be where all the great mages are gathered. There was a smell of glory and change in the air, and Tristan knew that his life was going to be very different from this moment onwards. He strode down the white courtyard with its neat stone pavement, viewing his home for the next five years with appreciation. He was going to achieve great things here, he thought to himself. That the University of Carthak accepted him at the age of sixteen proved he had talent. He was determined to do great things, to be recognized and known for his accomplished feats.

Then he found out there was already a school legend. A youth. A scholar. A mage. And he too was sixteen.

Tristan played the name in his head, rolling it silently with his tongue as if to test it for some hidden key, hidden charisma, _anything_ out of the ordinary that he failed to notice. He could not think of any.

_Arram. _

What did he accomplish so great that his name was known throughout the university? How was it that something so regular sounding as 'Arram' could come out exotic and striking from the mouths of others?

Perplexed, Tristan turned the corner from the courtyard to find a large crowd gathered around a water fountain some feet away from him. Scholars in coloured robes nudged and pushed each other to see something that was apparently every exciting, for he could hear waves of eager murmurs. Curious, Tristan approached quietly, straining his neck to see. Although he was tall for his age, some of the bystanders were obviously nearing their twenties and Tristan was no match against their broad shoulders and towering frames. Pushing through the gaps, he found a spot where he could see clearly.

A youth dressed in dark brown robes stood before him, perched on the rim of the fountain. Feet planted firmly for balance, his back was poised in a stance of deep focus. Tristan's interest increased a notch when he saw that the youth was blindfolded. Dark locks fell messily around the cloth that bound his face, making the only feature visible his mouth, which was currently set in a firm line of concentration.

Tristan wondered who he was, and what he was about to do.

He didn't wonder for long. Someone from his left threw a pebble high into the air. Tristan tilted his head, watching the black stone rise. It halted for a split second on its highest peak, and then plummeted back towards the pool.

The blindfolded youth made a wild gesture with his hands, and a sudden spray of water leaped from the fountain into the air. It hit the stone precisely and spat it out towards the crowd. There was a loud cheer at the same instant that someone threw a second stone.

The youth made another gesture, and another spray of water leaped into the air. Again it hit the falling stone with force so that the pebble's course was redirected towards the audience. It seemed that the objective of the game was to stop the pebbles from falling into the water.

Several more scholars took turns to throw stones into the air. They did it with different strengths, in different directions, but each time the youth managed to thwart the stones successfully.

Tristan no longer watched the pebbles. Instead he studied the youth's face, his hands, the effortless way he summoned water to his will. There was no doubt he had immense power; to manipulate water and give it strength and precision enough to move a fast-falling object was difficult, and to do it blindfolded…

Someone shouted from amidst the cheers and applauses. Tristan strained his ears.

'Arram, get down and stop showing off,' a male scholar said tartly, though his voice was thick with laughter. 'The fountain will be dry by the time you're done with it.'

A few people laughed. Tristan did not hear it. He stared at the blindfolded figure before him. So this was the famous Arram.

That explained everything.

Presently Arram turned towards the youth who called out. He did not take off his blindfold but his mouth curled into a wide grin. 'Not until someone catch me out,' he called out.

Tristan heard a loud, theatrical sigh. 'All right then,' the same youth spoke, and to someone else he said, 'he'll be there all day unless you fight dirty.'

So saying, he threw a handful of stones into the air. There were too many to count, and the watchers chuckled when they heard Arram curse under his breath.

With a grand wave of his hand, dozens of water sprouts erupted from behind him as he called the water upwards. The air shimmered with black fire when he flung his arms wide. The lines of water hit the descending stones, sending them showering to land everywhere but the fountain.

It was then that Tristan saw with clarity, that one of the stone was going to land in the pool. Arram could not have noticed; the stones were too many and fell too fast. Without thinking Tristan raised his hand. A stream of yellow fire rushed from his fingers towards the stone. It engulfed the pebble completely, and then made it shatter into a thousand minuscule pieces that, with a slight breeze, drifted away from the fountain like a cloud of dust.

People craned their necks to see who had intruded with the game. Tristan felt curious eyes on him and began to feel uneasy. Before anyone could say anything, Arram took the blindfold off. He seemed puzzled for a second as he scanned the crowd beneath him. Then his dark, searching eyes stopped on Tristan.

Tristan looked back solemnly. They were both sixteen of age, yet he was just starting university when the other had obviously been here for much longer. Tristan wondered at what age Arram was accepted.

Arram's eyes flickered in interest as he looked the stranger over. Then his face broke into a smile.

'Hello. I believe you just helped me win the game.' He jumped from the rim and landed before Tristan. On ground, he was half a head taller. He extended his hand.

'Arram Draper,' he said pleasantly.

Tristan took his hand without hesitation. There was something about the youth that held him in wonder. It was not so much of the talk surrounding the boy already that compelled Tristan to like him, but coming face-to-face, he could clearly see the reasons that made Arram exceptional. Intellect and strength was evident in his eyes, and though he was rather thin, there was a substantial cloak of potential in his movement. Admiration, awe and just a touch of envy made Tristan decide then, that he would do whatever it takes to be what Arram had achieved.

'Tristan Staghorn,' he replied, gripping the offered hand. Unconsciously the two youth sized each other up before breaking into a somewhat sheepish grin.


End file.
